Then you come home laden with gifts
Little bits of happiness from your trips
A bright young grin lights up the room
As discarded wrappings around us mushroom

There is something for all, and nothing for none
We share and we take, and still there is some
Giving generously to all who arrive
And then scrabbling for the last scraps we connive

Everything a game, with lightness and fun
But, truly, only the one you have begun
Without you there is no one to share
With you, I am a millionaire!

(yes, an impulsive scribble, this one :D)


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